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User blog:SkyrimsShillelagh/Twelve Stars of Taneth: Chapter 9
Chapter 8 Chapter 9: The Gathering Storm Rain poured on the palace grounds. The service as private, but the city would be in a week of morning. Family members stood at the sides as the crypt was opening, and the decorated casket was prepared to be carried down into it. Few tears were spilled, but the mood was somber. A final prayer was given. “May the roads rise to meet you, May the winds be always at your back, May the sun shine warm upon your face, The rains fall soft upon your fields, And until we meet again, May the gods hold you in the hollow of their hands.” The casket was lifted, trumpets sounded a slow, sorrowful march as the pallbearers descended below the earth to set the body in its final resting place. The work was done quietly. One by one those in attendance peeled off, until only one remained. ---- A storm gathered over Taneth. Not one of those fake ones where a fella’d get all dramatic and say, “Hark, there be trouble abrewing, keep your women and children and close, gentle folk, for a dangerous tide draws close,” or some like. Nah, it was a real storm, all gray and thundery and made the air smell like a flask you set out in the sun fer too long. It had winds that whipped at your clothes and screamed in your ears, and gave ya an awful fright if some idiot left a window open down the hall and it came blasting towards you, and it totally wasn’t yer fault if you jumped and knocked that vase honor, honest, and it wasn’t case you were mad and were taking your anger out on inanimate objects, that would be cruel to all the pots and pans out there. No this was real, smoking storm, with some early morning drizzle and good cup of dreary throughout the day. But it was one of those ‘figurational,’ as the poets say, storms too. ‘Cause a fresh batch of unfortunate going-ons what about to hit Taneth real soon, and that meant Crimson was going to do the only thing he could, the only thing someone in his place could possibly do when everything he knew, everything he held dear, was threatened but opposing forces on all sides. He was getting the ‘ell outta town. “Milord, are you certain we should be leaving?” Jeremias asked as Crimson packed their belongings into a suitcase. “Surer than my hat, Jeeves.” “You’re not wearing a hat, sire.” Jeremias pointed out blandly, very aware of the game Crimson was playing. Crimson glanced up. “Oh. Huh.” “Lord Sahir, I know you’re upset, but certainly there’s a better alternative to this. Even you see that.” “I do?” Jeremias grimaced from his seat by the door, peering over as Crimson jammed something into the suitcase. “You’re putting the flower vase in there, my lord. We didn’t bring anything with us. You’re stalling.” “Wrong, Jeeves, I’m stealing. Gunna take the whole darn palace with me, I will.” “By starting with the pillows and decorations?” “Journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, or sumin’ stupid like that.” “Could you stop for a moment?” “I could, but then I’d hafta stop.” “Lord Sahir, this is rather immature of you.” “Well, it ain’t the time to start bein’ adult, that’s for sure. Maybe I’ll go finda fountain of youth and become a kid again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “Not even remotely.” “Anyway,” Crimson grunted, pressing his weight down on the suitcase to try and get it clasped, “I’m not welcome here anymore. You’re welcome to stay and Jeeves up the place, but I’m going back to my farm. I think I’ll take all the horses with me. Start a ranch. Ya see me as a rancher?” “Lord Sahir, please let us talk this over.” “What’s the point?” Crimson asked, turning to Jeeves. “Can’t do anything on the stabbing end, can’t do anything on the talking end, that leaves sitting around like an old coot and telling everyone ‘good job’ and givin’ em pats on the back while they do all the work. That what you want?” “Yes.” Jeremias, exasperated. “Your children have grown up, milord. They no longer need you in the capacity of a guardian. But they still want a parent, not to control them, but for council, to let them know you’re proud of them. When it comes to things like this, you may want to be as you were, in control, leading the charge, always at the center of the action or attention, but you no longer have that opportunity. Those days are past, can’t you see that?” Crimson opened his mouth, drawing breath to answer. “Uhh… no.” He turned back around and slammed the suitcase suit. “We’ll hafta settle for these two pillows and the flowers I could fit in there.” He walked out of the room, past Jeremias. “You coming or not Jeeves?” He called back, out the door. “Milord Sahir,” Jeremias began as he hurried to catch up, “I know you’re upset at me and Mistress Shayera as well, but you must understand it’s not her fault.” “Well, I mean, it sorta is.” Crimson answered neutrally. “I get why you did it, you just wanted me off the farm, but Shayera had ‘er own agenda.” “All she wanted was your help.” “It doesn’t matter what she wanted. What matters is she betrayed my trust.” Crimson said. “Lord Sahir, don’t you think you’re be a bit harsh?” “Harsh?” Crimson snapped, whirling to face Jeremias with such intensity the butler took half a step back. “Harsh!? My son is dead. And you’re accusing me of being harsh?” “He was her brother.” “He was her enemy.” Crimson jabbed a finger into Jeremias’ chest prompting a surprised reaction from the valet. “Don’t preach to me. You don’t even got the smallest idea what I’ve been through. Stick to your butlering and I’ll stick to me and we can both be happy, got it?” “Lord Sahir-“ Jeremias started, taken aback by just how visceral Crimson’s reaction was. “Don’t ‘Lord Sahir’ me. I’m going back to my farm, and I’m going to like, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Got it?” Jeremias’ lips pursed and he bowed his head. “Thought so. Now out to the carriage.” ---- Aleera rubbed tiredly at her eyes. It wasn’t late, in fact it was the early morning. Except she hadn’t slept the night before. She’d been drafting up policies and steps to take regarding how to best return Gilane to it’s proper rulers and absolve Taneth of any wrong doings. It was hard to convince people Tidon had gone completely rogue. It wasn’t typical for a loyal member of the monarchy to sudden invade another country on a whim. Especially after her father’s rule, which had been remarkable in the loyalty and patriotism it had inspired among the kingdom’s subjects. Right now anything she did made it look like she was trying to back track a poor decision she’d made, as if everyone assumed she’d ordered Tidon to invade Gilane, and when it didn’t pan out because he’d been murdered by a foreign mercenary—the official position—she’d called the Janissaries back. It was a mess. Heavy boots clicked as they entered her office, and stood in a vague display of respect. “You wanted to see me?” Aleera glanced up, summoning all the poise she could manage in her state. Conner stood stiffly in front of her, line a metal pole had been attached to his spine. Or stick stuck up his ass. “I did.” Aleera replied, rising, folding her hands in front of her. “I trust Julius spoke to you?” “He did.” Conner answered, giving a rigid nod. “And he was convincing? Despite whatever feelings you may have towards me at the moment, Conner, you are better off on the council. We need your experience. The entire armed forces respect you as a commander. Taneth cannot get through this without you.” “Don’t try to manipulate me.” “I’m not, I am stating facts.” She crossed around his desk, standing in front of it, and leaning back against the edge. “Besides, if you are so upset with me, your position on the council will give you the opportunity to challenge anything I put forward.” “That’s partly why I agreed.” Aleera raised a brow. “Partly?” “I also can’t watch you spit on everything our parents built in good conscience and do nothing.” Aleera rolled her eyes. “Save the childish barbs, Conner. I’m going to remind you of something.” He frowned. “Alright?” “When dad stepped down two years ago, and put Hakim in charge, what was his first step as monarch?” Conner took a moment to drudge up the old memory. “The craftsmen’s guild came to him and complained taxes were too heavy.” “And what did he do?” “He lowered them.” “And what was his next legislation?” “The merchant’s guild had heard he lowered taxes on the craftsmen. And they asked him to lower taxes for them to.” “And he did.” Aleera said. “Then the Sentinel delegation asked for an elimination of tariffs. He agreed to that as well. People complained about increased murders in the south half of the city. He ordered double guard patrols. In the first month of Hakim’s reign, Taneth faced economic disaster, the guard was considering a mutiny, and it was immediately held he would be a weak king.” She glided across the room, and Conner’s eyes followed her, wondering what point she was making. “In one month, Hakim had destroyed the image of a fair, but firm throne our father and mother had established. That was when I stepped forward, and gave him my advice on perhaps what steps he could take. And he listened to me, as easily as he listened to everyone else, and even more willing.” She turned to face her brother. “Hakim would’ve destroyed Taneth with the word ‘yes.’ I saved it. So before you insult me, before you called me heartless, before you claim I am ruining the legacy of our family, take a step back and realize what I have sacrificed, what I have done for this kingdom, and you’ll understand that any evil I’ve done is far outweighed by the good.” Her voice rose in intensity as she approached Conner, a fierce gaze locked on the general. He looked back uncertainly. “So while we need you Conner, while your help would doubtlessly be beneficial to this kingdom, you first need to learn to swallow your petty pride, learn that the world doesn’t revolve around how you wish to view it, and show me the respect I deserve.” She drew close, getting directly in his face, forcing Conner to lean back. “Because while you were out playing soldier, I was preparing my whole life to lead Taneth; and that’s why each time you aspire to think you’re better than me, because you never would’ve done what I’ve done, I want you to know somewhere in the back of your mind that your wrong. I did what I did because I had to, because I’m willing to make the necessary sacrifice, and you aren’t. And not for a second does that make you superior in anyway.” Conner swallowed, glaring down at her. She cocked her head at him, an expect look on her face, awaiting a rebuttal. None came. Aleera nodded, stepping back. “Now get out of my office. I have work to do. I expect you at the council tonight.” Conner opened his mouth to speak, but just then someone came running, stopping outside the door. “General.” The man breathed, Conner turning to face him, Aleera looking curiously past her brother’s shoulder. He wore the red cloth over Orichcalcum chainmail and below a mail coif. The soldier saluted him, and then bowed her. “Lady.” “What is it?” Conner asked. “A message for you, sir.” The solider said, extending a crumpled piece of parchment to Conner. “I came as fast as I could.” Conner frowned, taking the paper and unfolding it. There was little written on it, but what he read clearly brought him no small amount of shock, given by how he tensed. “What is it?” Aleera asked. “Sentinel has chosen their side.” Conner said, quietly, turning to face her, an experience barely restrained dismay on his face. “There’s to be war in Hammerfell.” ---- Crimson whistled along pleasantly, manning the reins of the carriage. “Isn’t this nice, Jeeves? Open country air, bright sun. Can’t give this up for anything, can ya?” The butler, sitting beside him, was sweating profusely. “Not for the world, my lord.” Taneth was distant memory behind them. The savannah opened up wide on either side of them, and they would pass through a ravine up ahead. “You know, Jeeves, I think I was a bit hard on ya back at the palace.” “No harm done, my lord, you are understandably distraught.” “Nah, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. I should just be internalizing it, pushing all my emotions deep down, and bottling’em up inside, never letting’em see the light of day.” He made a pulling down motion of his abdomen. “That doesn’t sound very healthy.” “Kidding? I been doing it for years and I look great.” “Perhaps you could find someone to talk to about them?” “I figure I got a perfectly good butler right here.” “I meant one of your children. Dalia or Qadara. Perhaps spend time with your grandchildren.” “You know how many grandchildren I got, Jeeves?” “I’m afraid I do not, my lord.” “Neither do I. So many of the buggers running around, I don’t even know most their names. ‘Sides, gets kind of weird, since so many of ‘em look like me.” “I see.” “Knew you’d understand.” Crimson nodded, clapping Jeeves on the back, as they passed beneath the ravine. “Way I figure it, why bother with grandkids anyway, I’mma end of real dead soon give or take a few years, don’t wanna traumatize ‘em or anything by becoming real cool Grampa Crimson and then kicking the bucket.” “A wholly selfless motivation, I see.” Crimson nodded his affirmation. “That’s me.” A shadow cast over them. Crimson frowned looking up. Someone was plummeting towards them, sword extended. “Holy--” He tackled Jeeves sideways off the cart as the massive greatsword smashed into the driver’s seat of the cart, sending splinters flying. The two horses pulling the cart—Crimson had spared Whistles from the embarrassment this time—began to shriek and whine, kicking the air. “What’s going on?” Jeeves moaned, Crimson having fallen on top of him. Crimson peeked over to the other side of the carriage, where their attacker had landed. A massive, seven-foot shadow stood, featureless, a silhouette come to life. “A shadow got angry at us.” Crimson answered. “A what?” The Archer shoved Jeeves roughly under the carriage without much care to the rash it would probably give him or the gravel that would be stabbing the butler, causing Jeeves to groan. “Hey there, big fella.” Crimson said, standing up, waving a hand. “We, uh, met?” “You’ve merely not encountered me in this form. My true form." The shadow told him, it’s distorted, impossibly deep voice, ringing up and down the ravine. “But you are aware of what I am,” Crimson’s eyes slowly widened, as the shadow continued to speak, “Vessel of Complexity.” “I prefer Crimson, matter-o-fact.” The Archer answered slowly. “I also prefer it when things I kill stay dead.” “You were aware I could not be defeated.” The Adversary replied. It leapt, discarding gravity for a moment, to the roof of the carriage, which didn’t groan underneath what would’ve been something very heavy. “And yet you attempted.” “I’m a pretty bad listener.” Crimson said, scratching his temple. “But yer not here to catch-up, are ya?” “I have come to fulfill my purpose,” It pointed the massive greatsword made of writhing darkness at Crimson, “and extinguish you.” “Just say kill.” Crimson sighed. “It ain’t that hard.” The Adversary leapt again, directly at Crimson, slamming the blade down where he’d been standing, had he not jumped back. “Never has one eluded me for so long.” The Adversary, lifting the blade in an upward strike for Crimson’s neck, which the Archer stepped underneath as the blade passed over him in a whoosh of air, putting his back to the carriage. The Adversary spun, sword out at its side. “But the charade ends now.” It drove the sword forwards. Crimson leapt aside, baring avoiding certain death, but his gamble had paid off. The greatsword embedded itself up to the hilt in the wood of the carriage, becoming stuck. The Adversary tugged, to no avail. Crimson reared, back and threw a haymaker directly into the shadow’s face, rotating his shoulder and hip to give it maximum power, and the impact made an audible crack… Which was Crimson’s hand. It was like punching a brick wall. “Son of a fucking mother!” Crimson shouted, stepping back and clutching his almost certainly broken hand. The knuckles were bleeding, the wrist wouldn’t bend, and his pinky finger was pointed at a funky angle. The Adversary braced itself, pressing one hand against the carriage, and tore the sword free. It turned to face him again, not all too fazed by what had occurred. “Come’on, this isn’t far. What happened to all the mediums and fun tricks?” Crimson asked, preparing himself for an attack. “This ends now.” The Adversary told Crimson, lifting its greatsword to the sky. An arrow hit the shadow in the center of its chest. It looked vaguely confused for a minute, staring down at Crimson, sword posed to strike, as it began to dissolve. “Fate still favors you. But I will not be denied my birthright this time. My victory is soon. Understand this, and seek me out at Santaki.” The shadow faded to nothing, vanishing like a black mist blown away by the wind. Crimson turned around, still holding his broken hand, to face Shayera, holding a bow, astride a familiar white stallion. “How?” He asked. “I was already riding him out after you.” She answered, patting Whistles' neck. “Then, without warning, he just sped up. I had to hold on for dear life, but it apparently paid off, because I showed up in time to save yours. “I had it all under control.” Crimson assured her. He lifted the broken hand. “This? All part of my master plan ta trick ‘em up, ya see.” “I’ve seen that thing before.” Shayera said, sliding down of her horse. “In Oblivion. It killed all the Janissaries. Almost killed me.” “And you didn’t tell me?” He asked, his voice somewhere between surprise and budding anger. She shook her head. “Tidon had just died, dad. And it had seemed to know you. I didn’t want to cause you anymore stress.” She began to ramble, words spilling out. “Look, I’m sorry, it really wasn’t my intention to—“ Crimson held up a hand bringing her to a stop. “I understand. It’s alright. I do know it. It’s, well, a literal ghost from my past. Fact, it’s the ghosts of other ghosts from my past too, now that I think of it.” Shayera wrinkled he brow. “Huh?” “Long story. Anyhow, it said something, ‘fore it went. ‘Seek me in Santaki.’ Figure we’d better had there straight away.” “Santaki?” Shayera frowned, looking away as some pensive thought overtook her. “You’re sure it said that?” “Ya know, people been asking me if I’m sure ov’ things a lot, and it’s becoming harder to come up with clever answers.” “Well, it’s just…” She faced her father again, “Santaki is the village Jasmin’s in. Where she was spotted. Where she’s, you know, murdering people.” Crimson was speechless for a good few minutes, before finally replying. “Well I guess it’s time we went and saw your sister then, huh?” ---- The sky was overcast the desert outside Santaki. The ritual circle had lost its light. Her summon had failed. “Impossible.” Jasmin muttered, passing around the elegant formation of rocks in the symbol of the Ritual Sign, that elegant, all knowing eye. “It couldn’t possibly be defeated…” She crossed the dead grass, dust rising behind her boots due to the sheer dryness of the earth, to her shack, the door swung open to allow quick entry and exit. Inside was a laboratory set up to assist in anything a necromancer might need. She’d outgrown it, but the enchanting table, the ritual altar for creating black soul gems, some of it was still useful to her. Despite that she wasn’t a mere necromancer anymore. Jasmin had abilities, abilities that went beyond something any necromancer or conjurer could imagine. Her birth right, promised by the stars under which she’d been born, had assured her she’d be a powerful summoner. That she could create things at will, pull life from other dimensions into this one, wield the power of untold worlds. But nothing she’d read, she’d studied, gave her any clue as to why she could now do the things she could. She attributed it to a man she’d met when she’d been touring cities, looking for any scrap of information she could find. Because after she’d met that man, shook his hand, was the first time she’d used her ability. The result had been lots of people dead, dozens, perhaps hundreds. Jasmin hadn't meant for it to happen. But it had. And after coming to terms with what she was capable of, she didn't regret it. Jasmin stepped outside, gripping a black soul gem prized from the altar. Her work was slow. It only produced one soul gem a day, and she had to spend hours on incantations beforehand. She stood in the center of the ritual circle. No words were needed. She’d spoken words of summonings at first, calling powers forth from Oblivion, but soon realized it was unnecessary. The ability was innate. It was part of her. She extended her hand out, concentrating. The dragon fires were out. Oblivion and Nirn were closer than they’d ever been, the line between dimensions fine, and weak, like paper. She need only will it… The air grew thick with ozone, like the moment before lightning strike, and it lingered. The earth beneath her feet wilted more, and she willed a door open. The wind screamed and with a fantastic roar, the air tore apart in front of her. A crack, a window to another world, split. If one looked into it all they saw was fire, and the crack grew wider, enveloping that space in front of her. The tear in space of time had no width, no mass. If one looked at it from any direction, it looked flat, yet faced all ways at once. The fire within the crack grew thicker around the edges, but became thing at the center, so one could see through it, peer into that other world. The tear became an oval, it’s base touching the ground, and then held its shape. Something stepped through. One shadowy leg, which then pulled the rest of the body from Oblivion onto Nirn. The Adversary took a moment to appreciate it was standing on solid ground, then turned its attention to Jasmin. “I am called back once again.” It’s voice was the fire that destroyed a home, the death that found a unfortunate soul on the road, the darkness that made the evil feel safe and the good small. “You failed to do as I commanded you.” Jasmin said, lowering her hand. The Oblivion Gate she’d opened hung in the air. It would remain there, until she decided to shut it. “There was interference. I was not bound strongly enough to this realm.” “I have another soul gem.” She said, holding it up for the creature to see. “That will not do.” She shook her head. “I can’t bring bodies anymore. They’ll come after me. I’m far away, but they’re already starting to suspect something.” “Then tell me where I can acquire vessels to empty of souls, and I will do so myself.” “Use Santaki. It’s a village in the middle of the desert. No one will miss it.” “You are aware of the price of what you ask?” The Adversary lacked eyes, but somehow it still managed to bore into her. “Our goals align, but my alliance does not come freely. I am not Anu, recompense is always required.” “I can do what you ask.” She gestured to the portal. “You know I can.” “I have never relied upon mortals. But the consequence of failure are so great, that I consider it unlikely you will disappoint me.” Jasmin nodded. “I won’t, I promise.” The Adversary ended the conversation by passing her, vapors of black fog rising from its skin. Jasmin turned to the portal, aimed her hand at it, and closed a fist. The portal collapsed in on itself, and was no more. She took in the quiet desert for a moment, before nodding to hersel, and returning to the shack. A shadow descended over Hammerfell END OF PART 9 Chapter 10 Category:Blog posts Category:Twelve Stars of Taneth Category:Stories